Shades
by Elena Zovatto
Summary: A minor, solved case turns out to have some repercussions for the detectives.
1. Chapter 1

Joseph LaFiamma thrust the last of the day's completed paperwork into its designated folder as if it was radioactive, and took a deep, cleansing breath. This last case had been mind-numbing, and a complete waste of his and Lundy's time, but at least it was over. Normally, they wouldn't have been involved in a petty crime investigation, but Beaumont had owed Lieutenant Jackson in Fraud a favour - he and his partner had just been unlucky enough to draw the short straw.

Getting up from his desk in the bullpen, the Chicago native rolled his shoulders, working out the kinks as he reached for his leather jacket.

"Hey, Lundy - you want to grab some dinner? I found this great Jamaican place down on Richmond. You think your chili's spicy, you gotta try this guy's jerk chicken."

Preoccupied with finishing his own paperwork, Levon gave a small start at the sound of his partner's voice, and then leaned back in his chair with a smile. Ever since being reassigned to Houston for his own protection, Joey had taken it upon himself to try to broaden the Texan's culinary horizons. In turn, Lundy was determined to convert the Italian to the religion that was Texas barbecue. However, the campaign of each man had met with limited success at best - which wasn't to say either of them planned on giving up.

"Not today, LaFiamma," he said, as he rose from his seat and shrugged into his jean jacket, then went to retrieve his hat. "Between the stakeouts and the paper-pushin', I ain't even had the time to work Fooler on a lunge-line for the last week, and it's starting to tell on him. I'm thinkin' a long ride is just the thing to cure what ails im, and it should do me a world of good at the same time. I'm just gonna pick up something at Chicken's and head on home."

"So you'll take cholesterol-on-a-plate and barnyard smell over your partner? Nice to know where I stand in the scheme of things," Joe griped as they headed for the door, the humour in his expression belying his exasperated tone.

"Someday, you will come to appreciate good food, LaFiamma," Lundy said in a long-suffering voice, as he settled his Stetson on his head. "Besides boy," he said with a grin, "if you had any sense of smell to speak of, you'd prefer a barnyard over that fancy cologne you been bathing in all week."

"HEY! I do not wear too much cologne! And if you think horse sweat smells better than Armani, you've been spending too much time in the barn - the fumes have probably affected your brain."

"LaFiamma, if anything's affected my brain in the last two years, it's been working with you."

"Affected it for the better, if anything," Joe shot back as they made their way to their vehicles.

"If you call constantly bangin' my head against the wall an affect for the better, then I'd have to agree with you."

"It's not my fault if that's what it takes to knock some sense into that thick skull of yours," LaFiamma said, smirking.

"Is that what your Mama tried on you?" Levon asked, "Because Lord knows if there's any sense in your head, it didn't get there all on its own."

The Texan's riposte provoked a rare outburst of laughter from his partner, rather than the expected continuation of their verbal sparring, and Levon looked at Joey curiously.

"I'm Italian, Lundy," Joe said, still chuckling.

"So?"

"So you don't grow up in an Italian family without getting knocked upside the head at least once a day, starting from the time you can walk, until the day you move out of the house. Banging your head against the wall's nothing compared to some of the little love taps I had over the years from Ma, Zia Teresa, and Nonna Angela... Nonna was the worst," Joe smiled fondly.

"Nonna?"

"Grandmother," Joe explained. "She threw her slippers at you when you pushed her too far."

"You're kiddin' me," Levon snickered.

"Not even close," Joe said ruefully. "With the arm she had, she coulda pitched in the majors, too. You just did not mess with Grandma."

"Reckon that's true of all grandmothers," Levon said with a sad smile.

LaFiamma mentally kicked himself. It was only just three months since Mother Minnie had died - and although her death was expected and Lundy had had time to prepare himself for it, it had hit the man hard.

"Yeah," Joe agreed quietly. Then, looking to make amends for his gaffe, he spoke again.

"You sure I can't change your mind about dinner? I'm buying."

The Texan's lips quirked upward at Joey's offer. "Yeah, I'm sure," he replied. "I'm gonna have to mark the date on my calendar, though, 'cause any day _you _offer to buy is one to remember."

"You're the one who took bolt-cutters to my credit cards, cowboy," Joey said, scowling at his partner. "If I still had them, maybe I'd be able to be a bit more generous."

"Yeah," Levon said with a roll of his eyes, "and maybe you'd be livin' in a cardboard box by the overpass after you got evicted for non-payment of rent."

"As if - and don't think I'm missing the hint that you wouldn't offer your own partner a place to crash until he got back on his feet. Again, nice to know where I stand in the scheme of things..."

"LaFiamma, if I was to have you bunk at my place for an extended period of time, one of us would be dead in a week. It ain't a matter of not lookin' out for a partner; it's a matter of not courtin' disaster."

"For once, I've gotta agree with you - maybe _I _should mark the date on the calendar."

"Maybe - but with three hundred an' sixty five of 'em, it's bound to happen every once in a while."

"Just as long as it's not so often we get redundant," Joe said, exchanging a grin with his partner.

"No worries on that account - see you tomorrow, LaFiamma."

"Later, Lundy."

The two men split up, going to their respective vehicles. Lundy had a little farther to go, as he'd had to run an errand at lunch, and someone else had scooped his spot before he returned. He was just climbing into the Jimmy when Joe drove past, giving him a parting wave on the way out of the parking garage, which Levon returned.

Carefully, he backed out of the space, then followed his partner onto the city streets. Traffic was terrible as usual, but nothing out of the ordinary, and Levon had no difficulty navigating his way around the worst spots. He made it to Chicken's in fairly good time, and as soon as he arrived at the counter, the big man had a take-out container in hand.

"You know I ain't ordered yet," Lundy smiled. "Maybe I don't want what you got there."

"Uh-huh. Beef ribs, extra hot sauce, with cornbread and slaw on the side. You ain't nothing but predictable."

"I don't _always _get ribs. I've ordered brisket on occasion."

"Yeah, you have - when I make it. And you know as well as I do that's only on weekends. Don't know what hours you've been pullin', but it'd have to be a lot to get you to confuse Wednesday for Saturday."

"I ain't that far gone - though if I was, it wouldn'ta been the quantity of hours, woulda been the quality," Lundy said with a wince. "This boy wasn't made for pushin' paper."

"That you weren't," Chicken agreed, chuckling. "So are you gonna keep tryin' to be smart with me, or are you gonna be thankful I know you well enough to have your order ready to go?"

"Thankful," Levon grinned, putting out his hand to display money exactly covering the price of his meal, "If I tried to get one over on you, I'd be here all night, and I got a horse to exercise."

"Smart boy," Chicken smirked as they completed the exchange of food and money, "You take care now, hear?"

"Will do - and you do the same," Lundy said, touching the brim of his hat in parting.

Once he cleared the city limits, the remainder of his drive home was pleasant enough to be soothing after the long day, and he felt himself start to relax. The case he and LaFiamma had just put to bed had taken more out of him than he'd let on.

It was a simple enough case, for all the paperwork that had been required. A fertility clinic had been bilking its patients, charging for tests and services that were never really delivered. The actual doctor who was associated with the clinic had had nothing to do with the scam - it was the manager of the place that had been running the show. He'd been pretty good about cooking the books too, though not quite good enough.

Joe had been the one to spot the first inconsistency - for a man who had issues managing his own money, he sure didn't seem to have a problem tracking other people's - after that, they'd managed to wheedle some help to go over the books in detail. It had taken several long days sorting through the financial documents, but they had finally gotten their break. It helped that the manager hadn't been anywhere near as careful with his own accounts as he had been with those of the business.

Lundy pulled up to his house, and with dinner in one hand and keys in the other, made his way up the walk. Entering the house, he toed off his boots, and set his keys on their hook. Carefully placing his hat on its shelf, he made his way into the kitchen and rummaged for some cutlery, placing it on the table along with the takeout container. Slipping out of his jacket, he draped it on the back of his chair, retrieved a beer from the fridge, and then sat down to eat.

While the lack of violence made for a nice change from their usual caseload, seeing the hopeful couples who had been bilked had been difficult. He had never mentioned it to Joanne or anyone else, but his job hadn't been the direct cause of Caroline s drinking. He sighed.

As both of them had been only children, and had grown up envying the sibling relationships many of their friends had had, they had agreed that they wanted to have at least two or three kids. They had only been married two years when she had her first miscarriage. The doctors had been very reassuring, saying that a miscarriage was actually very common in first pregnancies. It was a blow to be sure, but they were young, they were healthy, and they had time - they just had to let nature do the rest.

Unfortunately, the doctors had been wrong.

Each miscarriage was a bigger heartbreak than the last - particularly the last one, which had come just days short of completing the first trimester - and the doctors had no explanation. They had undergone every test there was, and as far as the specialists could tell, there was nothing wrong with either of them. Although Levon had reassured Caroline in every way he could think of that he didn't care if they never became parents, just so long as she was by his side, she felt that she had failed him somehow - and she had started to withdraw, blaming herself for the loss of their children. As she became more distant, Levon had started using his job as an escape from their pain, and Caroline had started using a bottle.

As private as he was, he hadn't managed to keep Joanne from finding out about Caroline's drinking. Beaumont was his partner, and she was too good a detective to miss all the subtle signs that he couldn't hide. More than that, she was also his friend. She was the one who had 'accidentally' left the Al-Anon pamphlet in his car after a stakeout. While he wasn't about to discuss personal problems with a roomful of strangers, he did find the information helpful, and had acted on it.

Things with Caroline were actually getting better, before the end. Despite the obstacles of his job and her alcoholism between them, their love had never faltered. She had started having good days again, days when she could make it through without a drink, and he was making an effort to spend more time at home, as she had started to respond when he reached out to her. There was every positive sign that they were going to turn things around and come out stronger for it. He had just started to believe the worst was over - and that's when she had been killed.

He had never fully come out of the tailspin Caroline's murder had sent him into - had it not been for Mother Minnie, Joanne and Sue Ellen's efforts between them, Levon was sure he wouldn't have recovered as much as he had - until after he had started working with his hot-headed, opinionated, insufferable partner. Levon smirked to himself.

_Never thought a body could be **annoyed **into livin' life again - but damned if Joey didn't do just that for me_.

He and the Italian had gotten off on the wrong foot and stayed there in the first few months of their partnership, butting heads almost from minute to minute. They were complete opposites in everything - appearance, background, personality and even investigative approach. While they grated on each others nerves, they soon found that their completely different viewpoints on their cases more often than not caused them to dovetail into the solution.

With that realization, there had come to be a grudging acceptance between the two men - if there was one characteristic they shared, it was a passion for the job. Their respective police department mottoes - 'We serve and protect' and 'Order through law, justice with mercy' were the tenets around which each of them had organized their lives. Early on, both Joe and Levon had independently come to the conclusion that they might not like each other, but if they got results, they could tolerate each other for the sake of the greater good.

Gradually, toleration had evolved into something else - respect. From there, it had been a relatively short trip to reluctant admiration and then friendship - not that either of them would ever willingly admit it.

Finished with his meal, Levon cleaned up, then changed into an older pair of jeans, a work shirt, and his riding boots, and made his way to the paddock. Fooler nickered as he approached, and reaching the horse at the fence, Lundy stroked the animal's neck affectionately.

"What say we get you outta this place for a couple of hours, boy?"

The gelding whinnied and pawed the ground, and Lundy grinned.

"Thought so..."

Levon led his horse out to be saddled and bridled, and he was pleasantly surprised at Fooler's patience as he went about the tasks involved - at least until he took a moment to check the animal's feet, and the gelding started lipping his hair.

"Enough o' that now," he said, gently but firmly pushing Fooler's head away, "You'll be gettin' that exercise you want in a minute."

Satisfied with his horse's condition, Levon finished tacking up, then put on the old Stetson he kept for trail riding before he mounted up. He felt the last of the day s stress evaporate almost instantly as soon as he was in the saddle.

Lundy started Fooler at a walk toward the back of the property, but the horse moved up to a fast trot on his own, obviously only too pleased at the prospect of stretching his legs. Shaking his head, Levon reined his horse in a little - it wouldn't do for him to work too hard too fast, especially after a period of relative inactivity - but while Fooler did as his rider asked, he wasn't shy about letting the man know how he felt about it. Levon saw the horse's ears go back, and braced himself in time as the gelding kicked out his hind legs to show his displeasure. Instantly, Lundy gave Fooler a pop with the reins before he had even managed to get his legs back under him.

"NO," Levon said sternly. "You know better'n that - now behave yourself."

With that, Fooler settled, and after five minutes or so at a slower pace, Lundy let him have his way. They went around the perimeter of the ranch, giving the detective an opportunity to inspect the fencing as well as giving the gelding a chance to warm up - but it was going to take more than that to really exercise the animal properly. He mulled over his options, then directed his mount off to the section of his property that abutted one of the area riding trails. They went on for miles, and there were a couple of nice flat, open areas where an extended canter or gallop could be safely done - given how uncharacteristically restive Fooler had been earlier, a few sprints would probably be just what the doctor ordered.

Apparently Fooler agreed, as he had obviously realized where his rider wanted to go. While he stayed - barely - at a trot, he picked up his pace further, and carried his head high, with one ear on his rider, and the other pricked forward, obviously excited.

Levon chuckled as he leaned down and fondly patted the animal's shoulder.

"Think feelin' the wind in our faces is just what we both need, huh?"

As they hit the trail, Lundy started to ease his horse into a smooth canter, and let the case and the memories of his wife fall away from his mind as he lost himself in the ride.


	2. Chapter 2

Although he had left the restaurant ten minutes before, Joe was still smiling as he drove toward his apartment. Not only had he had a great dinner, he had gotten a date for the weekend. He had enjoyed the ackee and salt fish so much that he insisted on complimenting the chef personally. That's when he found out Ron, who ran the front room, specialized in making the jerk – it was his younger sister who did the rest of the cooking. Ron obligingly called her out of the kitchen to receive Joe's praise and LaFiamma immediately saw that Alicia had more charms to recommend her than simply her cooking.

They hadn't been able to spend as much time talking as Joe would have liked, as the main rush was about to start shortly. However, it had been enough to establish a mutual attraction. Sunday afternoon, he was going to treat Alicia to salt fish, Italian-style.

In the village where his grandmother had grown up, she had been renowned for her baccalà, and she had taught him how to make it when he was eight years old. Traditionally, she had made her signature dish for Christmas Eve dinner for the extended family every year. When Nonna Angela had reached an age where she just couldn't manage to do it herself anymore, she – with some regret and much pride – had delegated the task to Joe. While she had taught all of her children and grandchildren how to cook, to her mind Joe was the only one whose baccalà measured up to her own.

Joe wistfully remembered the first Christmas Eve he had made it for the family – he'd been anxious, not wishing to disappoint his grandmother or anyone else. After the baccalà was served, everyone waited for Nonna Angela to have the first taste, and give her opinion. Joe wasn't sure what he had expected at the time, but it sure hadn't been tears...

"_Giuseppe, vieni qui," Nonna said.__1_

_Joe hurried over, worried, and was about to start asking if she was all right, when she pulled him down and kissed him on his forehead and both his cheeks. She held his face in her hands, and smiled through her tears._

"_Giuseppe, mio nipote, questo baccalà è meglio di qualsiasi altro io abbio mai fatto!"__2_

Cheers and congratulations had erupted around the table, but it hadn't taken long for them to die down as everyone happily got back to the business of eating. After that triumph, he had made it for the family every Christmas Eve since. His exile hadn't stopped him – though it had meant a particularly ruinous courier bill last year. Joe grinned to himself – he could thank Lundy for that.

Joe had been moping, depressed about being away from his family for their traditional meal for the first time, and Levon had finally had enough. Lundy had snapped at him to try doing something to work around the distance separating him from his loved ones, instead of just whining about it. Joe's temper had flared in response, but their angry exchange had been the genesis of his idea to make baccalà and send it to the family. It had been worth it though...

_It was his first Christmas Eve in Houston – his first one alone. Lundy had gone to Lombard to spend the holiday with his grandmother, and while LaFiamma had been touched by his partner's invitation to join them, it just didn't feel right somehow. He felt he had to come to terms with being on his own – to come up with his own traditions – before he could take part in and enjoy those of other people. So he had given his partner his regrets, saying that if the offer was to be repeated next year, he would definitely take the Texan up on it. His answer had seemed to satisfy Lundy – Levon had only smiled and made a smart remark thanking Joe for the warning, and Joe had fired a rubber band at his partner in retaliation._

_While Joe stuck to the basic script of his family's Christmas Eve traditions, he did make his own variations. Instead of midnight mass, he went to an earlier service. He did do his own feast of seven fishes, but apart from his baccalà, the menu was different from what his family usually served, and he ate it in the evening, instead of after midnight. After dinner, he set a bottle of Prosecco to chill, took out some of the fig cookies he had made earlier, then settled in for a night of holiday specials in front of the television as he waited for Christmas Day to arrive. At the stroke of midnight, he broke open the bottle and toasted the holiday. After he had finished his glass of wine and the sweets, he shut off the TV and turned in._

_It was almost two in the morning when the phone had rung. Joe awakened instantly and reached for the handset, wondering if something had come up at the station. He turned it on and answered._

"_LaFiamma," he said._

_For a moment, there had been silence – and then the singing had started._

"_Tu scendi dalle stelle, O Re del Cielo - __e vieni in una grotta, al freddo al gelo..."__3_

_It wasn't just one voice, but a chorus of them - and Joe knew them all. The whole LaFiamma family - uncles, aunts, cousins, everyone - serenaded him with the old carol, and eyes misting, he joined in the song. When the final note died away, he was nearly deafened by the shout of 'Buon Natale!' that had erupted from the phone. After that, it was chaos as the line in Chicago was passed from one relative to the next, all clamoring to speak to him and deliver their Christmas wishes. Zia Teresa in particular had quietly thanked him for sending the family specialty._

"_Your uncle has been a real bear the last week or two, Joey – he misses you something awful. We all do. We can't thank you enough for sending your baccalà, it wouldn't have been Cena della Vigilia without it. It's not the same as having you here with us, but talking to you and eating your food is the next best thing. You should have seen the look on Michael's face when I told him what you'd done for us – he couldn't be prouder of you. We love you, Joey – Buon Natale, e stai bene."__4_

There were lots of good memories associated with that recipe, but bittersweet as it was, that memory was the best of them. With any luck, he thought with a grin, he might be able to add to the collection Sunday afternoon. Luckily, he already had all the ingredients he needed at home – he just had to start soaking the fish.

Joe chuckled, remembering Lundy's reaction when he was first exposed to the concept of 'soaking fish'. Before leaving for Lombard last year, his partner had come by for dinner at Joe's invitation, and when Levon went to help himself to a beer, he couldn't help but remark on the covered containers that filled every flat surface in the refrigerator. The look on the Texan's face as Joe explained what they held and what he planned to do was something else. It had started off as incredulous and then morphed into comprehension as Lundy came to understand the process of preparing the fish, only to make a return to disbelief when Joe casually mentioned he was making enough for about forty servings.

"_Sweet Jesus – I know y'all are Catholic, but jus' how big __**is**__ your family, boy?"_

"_If you're talking immediate family, small – you're lookin' at it. But Dad and Ma both came from big families, so between them I've got fourteen aunts and uncles by blood and most of them are married with kids. Don't make me count the cousins, for all I know I've already got more of 'em on the way. I've got one uncle who's only eight years older than me."_

"_An' they all have Christmas Eve dinner together after midnight mass?"_

"_That's the tradition – not everybody can make it every year, but there's usually anywhere between twenty-five and thirty-five for dinner. It's a lot of work, but everyone who comes always pitches in, so it's not really that bad. Uncle Mikey offered to book a hall one year instead of having it at the house – I guess he thought it might make things easier to manage – and Aunt Teresa just about ripped him a new one for making the suggestion."_

"_Hard ta imagine a man in his position bein' cowed by his wife," Levon mused with a chuckle._

"_You've never met Zia Teresa," Joe said with feeling. "The woman's a force of nature."_

"_Guess she'd have to be," Levon said with a teasing glint in his eye. "After all, she pretty much raised you, didn't she?"_

Joe grinned in recollection – he had had no room to argue with his partner on that point – and if anything, the description of his aunt as a force of nature didn't do her justice. He couldn't help but think that was one of the things that had attracted Michael in the first place. His aunt and uncle were really two of a kind. They were very calm by nature, almost serene in most circumstances. It took a lot to rouse their anger – or a jab in exactly the right spot – but when that happened, the results were epic. They didn't argue very often, and when they did, it was never in front of their children – or Joe, whom they had come to consider as their own. Their arguments, when they did occur, tended to be loud but short-lived – and as Joe and his cousins had discovered when spying on the grown-ups, they almost always ended with teasing words, kisses and the couple retreating to their bedroom.

All in all, the kind of relationship his aunt and uncle enjoyed was something he aspired to have in his own life; it was just a matter of finding the right person. He took a lot of ribbing at work for the number of women he dated, but truth be told, he went out a lot more since his arrival in Houston than he ever had in Chicago. Partly it was because of his loneliness in his new city, and partly it was because of how his usual dating methods had changed.

Back home, usually a friend or relative would introduce him to someone they thought he would get on with, and their instincts were usually right. Although none of those relationships had panned out in the end, they had generally been long-lasting and ended well once they had run their course. He was still on good terms with every one of his exes in Chicago. In fact, one of his former girlfriends had had him stand as 'man of honor' at her wedding – to the man Joe had himself introduced her to after they had split up.

In Houston, he didn't have anyone other than himself to vet his dates, and Joe was certain that had everything to do with why any relationship he'd had since moving tended to be short-lived. He knew he had an unfortunate tendency to be a sucker for a pretty face, and that had gotten him into trouble more than once. He grimaced, thinking of the most recent time that had happened.

_A coke dealer no less... what did Nonna always used to say, _'lei non è bella, sembra proprio così'. _Shoulda remembered that at the time – or listened to Lundy, _he thought ruefully.5

His friends and family back home had been a great buffer, effectively saving him from himself on more than one occasion. While he had made some friends in his new home, about the only person he was really close to was his partner, and for the most part, Lundy had all he could handle dealing with his own personal life, let alone Joe's.

_I know he's finally gotten over the worst of it since we got the scum behind Caroline's murder – but man, I still wish he'd talk to someone, _Joe thought unhappily._ It's not healthy to keep things bottled up like that, and I just know that's why he and Jaime didn't work out – the cowboy still has baggage to work through._

Joe frowned as his thoughts turned to his partner. He hadn't really thought about it while they worked their last case – probably because it was all he could do to avoid going into a coma from handling his share of all the paperwork it had involved – but now that he had a chance to reflect, Levon hadn't seemed quite like himself at the time.

The Texan always tended to be laid-back and not very talkative unless he had something specific he wanted to say – and given how they argued as they worked, Joey tended to force his partner toward eloquence. Thinking back to their first visit to the clinic, he remembered how Lundy had seemed to tense up before they went in – he'd thought it odd at the time, but hadn't gotten around to calling Levon on it before they got wrapped up in the investigation. Later that day, the man hadn't spoken two words unless someone else spoke to him first. Then there was Lundy's behaviour when they were doing their interviews.

Usually, his partner had a soothing, respectful, easy-going, empathetic manner with witnesses, victims and suspects alike that invited them to speak freely, whether they meant to or not. During this set of interviews, he hadn't been cold, exactly – but certainly brisker than usual, more detached, almost as if he was making an effort to distance himself.

_Let's see – fertility clinic, hopeful couples, and the man both withdraws and clams up. I'd like to think I'm not a detective for nothing... _

Over the course of their partnership, Joe had had several opportunities to see just how good Lundy was with children – and it didn't seem to matter what age group they fell into. Young children seemed to naturally gravitate to his partner. Older ones – even some of the teenage suspects they'd dealt with – respected him, probably because Levon was never condescending to them, and treated them no differently than he did other adults. Given Levon and Caroline's respective backgrounds – as far as Joe could tell, both were only children – it had come as something of a surprise that they hadn't had any kids of their own.

At first, Joe had just assumed that Caroline's drinking problem had precluded their starting a family – he simply couldn't see Levon entertaining any risks to the health of an unborn child, or deliberately bringing a child into that kind of environment – but they had been married over ten years, and together since high school. From what little LaFiamma had managed to glean about his partner's personal life over the time they had been working together, it seemed that Caroline's alcoholism had started later in their marriage.

_So maybe they didn't want any kids – which I doubt; or maybe they had decided to wait a few years first, but her drinking had started by then; or maybe they wanted them, and weren't able to have them. Judging from Lundy's behaviour though, my money would be on the last one. Could explain why Caroline started drinking in the first place – I know what Joanne said about the job being the cause, and maybe that was part of it, but I always figured there was more to it than that. I know better than to ask Levon about it though._

If there was one thing Joe had learned about his partner, it was that the man was very particular about his privacy. As well, it was a given that unless Levon himself brought up the subject first, his past history was not open for discussion. Seeing as any plans he and Caroline might have had for a family covered both Lundy's private life and his past, LaFiamma knew that bringing up the subject was a sure method to start a fight – literally.

_We already beat the crap out of each other once; I really don't feel the need to go there again._

Once it was no longer necessary to go to the clinic, and their interviews were complete, it seemed his partner was back to being his normal self, though he had still been a little quieter than normal. Still, Joe had a vague sense of unease.

_He seemed fine when we left the station – and he said he was going for a ride. I know that for him, that horse is like an antidepressant without any side effects, so he should be okay. Hell, I'm almost positive he is. But still..._

Joe glanced at his watch, gauging the time.

_If he's back, maybe a few games of pool at Chicken's will finish the job Fooler's probably started on him. And if he isn't, it's a nice evening for a drive anyway._

With that thought, he changed direction, pointing the Cobra to the roads that would lead to his partner's home.

Italian translations

Joseph, come here.

Joseph, my grandson, this baccalà is better than any I ever made.

You came down from the stars, O King of the Heavens, and came in a cave, in the cold, in the frost

Christmas Eve dinner/Merry Christmas, and stay well

She's not pretty, she just looks that way.

While my own background is Italian (Venetian/Milanese), I am sadly nowhere near fluent, though I can understand the language reasonably well and have very rudimentary grammar. Google translated for me.

"Tu scendi dalle stelle" is a very old, very popular Italian Christmas carol.


	3. Chapter 3

Joe was right – it had been a nice evening for a drive. He'd taken a slightly different route to get to Lundy's home, as he was still working on learning the streets of his new city. He'd made a lot of progress, and was now very comfortable driving in the areas surrounding the major city centers, but he was still working on getting his bearings when on the outskirts of town. LaFiamma turned the Cobra into his partner's driveway, and parked the car alongside the Jimmy.

Getting out of the vehicle, Joe made his way up the walk, climbed the porch steps, and knocked on the door.

There was no answer, and there didn't appear to be any lights on in the house. The latter was normal – Lundy was perfectly at ease navigating the house in the dark, and often couldn't be bothered to use the lights – and the former was no less than Joe expected.

Joe tried the door, and was pleased to find it locked for once.

_About time he started taking home security a little more seriously – nothing quite like getting ambushed by a psycho in your own home to bring you on board._

LaFiamma took a moment to consider his options. He could just get Lundy's spare key from its hiding place and go through the house; or he could walk around to the back to see if his partner was in the stable. He decided on the walk, as he figured chances were good he'd end up checking the stable anyway. As he rounded the corner at the back of the house, he found his instincts had been correct – the house may have been dark, but the stable wasn't.

He turned his steps to the path that led to the small outbuilding, enjoying the short stroll – it was still light out, though full dark would be falling in about an hour or so, and there were some birds singing nearby. The temperature had come down to a comfortable level after the heat of the day, and the evening air was pleasant. As he entered the building, Joe was careful to call out ahead, not wishing to startle his partner.

"Hey, Lundy – you there?"

"Yep – I'll be awhile, though. C'mon in an' find a spot to set yourself 'til I'm done here – or you can wait in the house if you'd rather."

"I should be good here," LaFiamma replied, following his partner's voice to find Levon with Fooler.

The horse's halter was tied to a sturdy hook on the wall, the rope having plenty of slack to allow the horse free movement of his head, and Lundy appeared to be giving the animal a massage.

"Decided to treat your horse to a spa day?" Joe cracked.

"You'd know about those, wouldn't ya?" Levon grinned. "Horse care 101, LaFiamma – after you work a horse, you gotta take care of 'im. Already sponged 'im down, dried 'im off, picked out his feet, treated his hooves, and I'm almost done rubbin' him down. Gotta finish grooming 'im after that and then clean off the tack and get it back where it belongs."

"Anything I can help with?"

"If ya don't mind gettin' your hands a little dirty, you can wipe down the tack for me – there's a bar of soap and a sponge by the bucket over yonder. Water in it should still be warm – just dampen the sponge, wipe it on the soap, then wipe down the leather. Don't get any soap on the bit, though – horses don't like soap in their mouths any more'n people do. An' when you're done with the saddle, run over it with the towel there, make sure it's dry."

"Got it."

As Joe started to clean the tack, Levon picked up two of the brushes he had ready, one in each hand, and started to work on Fooler's coat, beginning with the animal's forequarters.

"So – what brings you out here? Wasn't expectin' to see ya until tomorrow," Lundy asked.

"I felt like having a few games of pool – thought I'd ask if you wanted to join me."

"You drove out here just for that? Coulda called."

"Yeah, well I figured you might still be out. Besides, it's nice weather for a drive – and it was a chance to get more familiar with the roads out here," Joe replied.

"Not a bad idea – either of 'em. How are we doin' for time, partner?"

"I guess that depends on how long we're gonna be here."

"Short answer ta that is we'll be here 'til we're done," Levon smiled, "but I reckon I'll be finished in about fifteen minutes, and it shouldn't take more' n that for ya to finish up the tack. I'll only need a couple more minutes to get myself cleaned up after that."

"In that case, we should be good for a couple of games."

"Sounds good."

As they worked, Joe noted how his partner interacted with his horse. Levon wasn't a talkative sort by nature, but he seemed to speak to Fooler quite a bit as he went about the task of grooming the animal, and Joe couldn't help commenting.

"I think you talk to that horse more than you do to me – that because he doesn't talk back?"

"I can guarantee you know what I'm thinkin' right now, LaFiamma," Levon snickered.

"Yes, I know," Joe said with a roll of his eyes, "you get more sense outta the horse than you do outta me. I knew I was leaving myself wide open for that one too, thank you very much. Seriously though, is there a reason for it? I'm curious."

"Yeah, there's a reason," Levon said, taking a moment to change brushes as he answered. "Horses are prey animals – an' their natural reaction to anythin' that gives 'em a start is to run away. And if they can't run away – say, because they're tethered – they panic. Every horse has a different temperament, but in general they can spook easy – best to avoid startlin' them in the first place. Talking to 'em as you work helps keep 'em calm, lets 'em know where you are."

Joe nodded, mentally filing the information away. While he had no idea how long his exile was going to last, he figured as long as he was in Texas and there was a chance he might be around horses at times, it made sense to have at least some basic knowledge about them.

"How many times do you brush him, anyway? Thought you were done a minute ago..."

"Usually three – but since I rubbed 'im down real good, I figured I could skip usin' the curry comb this time. First go-through is to loosen any dirt an' get the blood flowin' to the horse's skin, second one is to get rid of the dirt and any hair he's shedding; third one's just to polish 'im up some."

"I didn't realize just how much work was involved in looking after a horse," Joe commented.

Levon shrugged.

"Ain't much different than keepin' any other animal – just that horses are more useful than most."

"Yeah, but most people have pets for companionship more than anything else."

"Ya think I don't get that from Fooler? Or that he don't get that from me?" Levon asked, chuckling. "Thought you were payin' attention – but then, you probably don't know what to look for, bein' a city boy an' all."

"Whattaya mean?"

"Well, lessen you've been keeping some equestrian skills secret since ya got here, ya don't know anythin' about horse behaviour. Did ya notice him hangin' his head over my shoulder a few minutes ago, or hear 'im nicker when I brushed one spot on his side?"

Joe nodded.

"Dogs come and sit next to you, cats purr when you stroke 'em – it's the same kind o' thing," Levon said.

"I guess so – but it's not like Fooler's gonna fetch your paper or sit in your lap."

"Maybe not," Levon agreed, "but then it ain't like you can ride a cat or a dog."

"Depends on the dog," Joe said with a smile. "My cousin Vic had a Newfoundland that was the size of a small bear. All of us kids used to take turns riding him."

"Unless he could jump fences with you on 'is back, it don't count."

"Point," Joe conceded, chuckling. "Where should I put this stuff when I finish with it?"

"Tack room's just around the corner – just match up what you have to what you see hangin' in there already, an' you should be able to sort it out fine. Try not to tangle anything."

LaFiamma gave a mock salute and went to put away the reins he had been working on. When he came back into the room, Lundy had a sudden question for him.

"Hey Joe – you ain't ever ridden a horse before, have you?"

"Nope – the only horses I ever had an interest in were under the hood of a car. Some of my cousins had lessons when we were growing up though, and I think the Gs still go every now and again. Why do you ask?"

"The Gs?"

"My uncle Rico's three daughters – Giuseppina, Giovanna and Giulietta," Joe explained. "They always ran as a pack when we were kids, and they still do now that they're grown up. Aunt Teresa started calling them 'the Gs' to save time one day, and it stuck. So is there any particular reason you were asking your other question?"

"Not really – was just curious, since ya seemed ta be showin' an interest there. If you ever decide you do wanna learn, let me know. I got some friends that run a school not far from here."

"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind." Joe paused then smirked. "What, you wouldn't trust me with your horse, Lundy?"

"I wouldn't trust him with you, more like," Levon replied, his voice serious. "Not ta start off with, anyway. Fooler's got a good temperament overall, but he likes to push the boundaries sometimes. He'd be tryin' to boss ya for sure, an' that's a distraction a new rider doesn't need."

"Boss me?"

"Herd behaviour," Levon explained. "Horses have a pecking order in the herd. They don't much care where they are in it, but they like to know where they stand. With a strange horse, or a person they don't know, they might act up, tryin' to figure out who outranks who – that can mean biting, shoving, or kicking. Fooler ain't a biter, and he don't normally kick unless he's got reason to, but he has his moments. Once ya had a little experience, you'd be fine with 'im though. It's just a matter of convincin' the horse that you're the one in charge."

"So, they're kind of like dogs then – you gotta establish yourself as the leader of the pack?"

"Somethin' like that."

The two men worked in companionable silence for a few more minutes – long enough for Joe to finish with the tack. He put the rest of the gear away as his partner put the finishing touches on Fooler's coat.

"Hey Lundy – is there a place where the cleaning gear goes?"

"The corner closet in the tack room - you'll see there's a sink right close to it, you can empty the bucket out there. Oh, and there's some beer in that closet too – bring me one, would ya?"

After emptying the bucket and stowing the cleaning gear, Joe found the beer and took one. He was surprised to see it was a foreign brew, and wondered at his partner's sudden craving for warm beer.

_I know this stuff is good when it's cool and properly poured, but at room temperature? Yuck,_ Joe thought wrinkling his nose.

"You know, Chicken's got all the cold beer we want – and the drive in isn't _that_ long," Joe said, returning to the main room.

Lundy just laughed as he untied Fooler.

"Ain't for me," he said, leading the animal to his stall. "You couldn't pay me to drink that stuff warm."

"Well it's not like I'm gonna drink it either..." Joe stopped mid-sentence, putting two and two together. "You're kidding me."

"Nope," Levon answered with a grin as he removed Fooler's halter, hanging it on a nearby hook after leaving the stall, and closing the door. He headed to the sturdy metal garbage can he used as a feed bin, smoothly undoing the bungee cords that secured the lid. He placed a measure of grain and chaff in a feed bucket then held out his hand to Joe for the beer. Joe passed the bottle to his partner, who opened the bottle, poured it over the feed, and stirred the mixture well before heading back to Fooler's stall.

"You give Guinness to your _horse_?" Joe asked incredulously.

The gelding neighed, leaning over the wall as Levon approached.

"I'm comin', I'm comin' – I swear you're gonna make Joe think I never feed you at all. Fooler, back – back now," Lundy ordered.

To Joe's surprise the horse retreated at Levon's command, giving him room to hang the bucket over the door. Once that was done, the horse eagerly went to his dinner with a contented nicker. As Fooler began eating, Lundy checked the animal's water supply. Satisfied that his horse's needs were met, he went to secure the feed bin again as Joe stood waiting.

"I just can't believe you buy Guinness for your horse," Joe said, amused.

"An' why not? He likes it – it's good for his coat too."

"I've seen you split hairs over a dollar on a restaurant tab – and you shell out on imported stout for your horse?"

"Everybody's got their priorities – you got your fancy car an' your fancy clothes, I got my horse."

"Fair enough," Joe said, shaking his head.

Done at the bin, Lundy replaced his hat on its hook, and put away the grooming equipment before once more going to the stall door. Fooler looked up from his feed, and Lundy smiled, stroking the animal's neck once more. The horse brought his nose up to Lundy's face and blew gently, and to LaFiamma's amusement, Levon returned the gesture as he reached a hand up to scratch behind Fooler's ear, and the horse in turn nuzzled at the man's shoulder.

"All right now, boy, we'll see you tomorrow," Lundy said as he bestowed a final pat to the horse's neck before turning to join his partner.

"About time," Joe said, smirking as Levon approached. "I was about to ask if you two wanted a minute alone."

"Someday, LaFiamma, you'll understand," Lundy said with a grin. "Maybe I oughtta bring you out ta that riding school – if we can get you up on a horse, we'll turn you into a real Texan yet."

"That'll be the day," LaFiamma replied with a shudder, as they exited the stable and started walking to the house.

"O' course, we'd have to get you into some decent footwear first," Lundy mused, eyes alight with humour.

"The day you see me in cowboy boots will be the day of my funeral," Joe shot back. "That way you'll finally get one over on me, and I'll be too dead to care about the fashion crime."

"Riding boots ain't gotta be cowboy boots – they just gotta have a heel, to make sure your foot doesn't go through the stirrup," Levon replied. "If you got hiking boots, they'd work just as well. Although," he continued, his voice teasing, "if you're all concerned about quality footwear, Lucchese's gonna be havin' a sale next week..."

"No thanks," Joe said firmly. "They might be Italian, and they might be good quality, but a well-made cowboy boot is still a cowboy boot. I do have some hiking boots though – one of my old girlfriends was into camping."

"_You_ were into camping?" Lundy asked in disbelief.

"I was into her," LaFiamma corrected. "_She_ was into camping; therefore, I was into camping. Besides, it wasn't so bad. She was pretty hard-core – she taught wilderness survival courses for fun – but she made sure that when we went, it was nothing I couldn't handle."

"What, cabins with room service?" Lundy asked as he unlocked the back door of the house and walked into the kitchen, followed by his partner.

"No, smartass," Joe said sourly as he closed the door behind them and Lundy turned on the lights. "Tents and campgrounds, but nothing too remote. It wasn't really my thing, but I had fun. And anyway," he said with a wolfish smile as he reminisced, "it was worth the strange bruises and bug bites in stranger places every time."

His partner only chuckled softly in response as he toed out of his boots.

"Keep your shoes on if ya want, LaFiamma – I'll just be a couple minutes gettin' cleaned up – just don't track on the carpet, hear?" Lundy said.

"Yes, mother," Joe sing-songed. Heading toward the main bathroom, Levon threw his dirty work shirt at his partner in response, but the Italian neatly ducked out of the way.

"I'm not picking that up, just so you know," Joe called as he went to wash his hands at the kitchen sink.

Lundy's response wasn't quite audible, but LaFiamma was sure it was rude – or at least, as rude as the Texan was likely to be under the circumstances.

Joe grinned to himself. Lundy wasn't given to profanity as a general rule, so getting him annoyed enough to swear – _really_ swear – generally took some work. Joe-Bill had once told LaFiamma that he'd heard Levon swear only three times in the six years they'd worked together prior to Joe's transfer to Houston. However, McCandless had then added that he had given up keeping track of Lundy's swearing within two days of LaFiamma's arrival.

_Mind you, if anyone at the station had known me before, they'd know that while I do vent a lot, I don't tend to curse that much either – or at least I didn't until I got partnered with Levon. Not sure why that is either – we might be completely different people, but in a lot of ways we're too much alike for our own good, I guess._

Finished at the sink, Joe dried his hands with some kitchen towels, and then pulled out a kitchen chair to wait. It was only a couple of minutes before Levon reappeared in a clean shirt and the jeans he had worn to work earlier in the day.

"Ready to go, partner?" Joe asked, getting up from the chair.

"Almost," Lundy replied, locking the back door. "Let's go out the front, an' I'll just get the rest of my stuff on the way."

Joe followed his partner closely and carefully, as with the kitchen lights now turned off the house was dark, and he had no desire to trip over anything. Lundy collected his jacket, hat and keys as they made their way to the front entrance, and then stopped to pull on his boots.

"Okay – let's go. We takin' one vehicle or both?"

"Seems pointless to take 'em both, and we spend plenty of time in the Jimmy as it is. C'mon Lundy, I'll drive. The weather's still perfect for an open car, and God knows when it might be again."

With that the two men exited the house, arguing cheerfully about the Texan climate and the practicality of different vehicles as they made their way back into town.


End file.
